


Breakdown

by molstrom



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28043013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molstrom/pseuds/molstrom
Summary: Your car breaks down on the side of the road and Juice stops to help. He brings you to Teller-Morrow and takes it upon himself to entertain you while your car gets picked up and fixed.
Relationships: Juice Ortiz/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Celi1208](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celi1208/gifts).



I’m leaning over the engine of my broken down car lamenting the choice of not charging my cell phone before leaving the house when I hear a motorcycle. I don’t bother looking up, assuming the rider will drive by as everyone else has in the past hour that I’ve been broken down out here in the middle of nowhere, so I’m shocked when I hear tires on the gravel shoulder and then hear the motorcycle turn off before someone walks up to me. I don’t turn around, instead focusing on the hose that I’m sure is the problem.  
“Can I help?”  
God, that voice…I take a deep breath to calm my suddenly racing heart before looking over my shoulder and saying:  
“I don’t know. Can you?”  
He raises an eyebrow at me and smirks before saying:  
“I stopped to help you and you’re sassing me?”  
“It’s a personality defect.”  
He steps closer to me and leans over the engine next to me.  
“Have you figured out the problem?”  
“Blown hose. Could be more, but without fixing the hose I can’t see any other problems.”  
“You know cars?”  
“I drive a P.O.S. I know enough to get me from point A to point B…usually.”

Jesus, he smells good. While he’s looking at the car, I’m looking at him. He’s got tanned skin, dark hair shaved into a mohawk, tribal tattoos on his scalp, and more tattoos on his arms. He’s wearing a white t-shirt under a black hoodie, and black pants.   
“You done checking me out?”  
I shrug and say:  
“Not really. There’s definitely more I want to see.”  
“Most girls would have said yes.”  
“I’m not most girls. Can I borrow your phone to call a tow truck?”  
“You could. Or you could come with me. We’ll get a tow truck to come to get the car.”  
“Where are you going?”  
“Teller-Morrow in Charming. One of the guys will come out with the tow truck.”  
“Fine. But what the hell am I supposed to do in Charming?”  
He winks at me and says:  
“Me.”  
“Yeah. Okay. Let’s go.”  
“Just like that?”  
“You want to talk me out of it?”  
“Hell no.”

I walk over to the passenger door and grab my bag and car keys as he closes the hood. We both walk towards his bike and he says:  
“You’ll have to wear my helmet.”  
“Okay. Thanks.”  
“I’m Juice, by the way.”  
“Oh…We’re doing the exchanging names thing, huh?”  
“Generally something people do.”  
“Fine. I’m Y/N.”  
We get to the bike and he hands me his helmet and then gets on. I put the helmet on and climb onto the bike behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. About twenty minutes into our drive, I move one of my hands to the bottom of his shirt and then slide it up his abdomen underneath, gently running my nails over his bare skin. I feel him take a deep breath and shudder under my hands before he loudly says:  
“Y/N…you gotta stop that while I’m driving.”  
“How much longer?”  
“10 minutes.”  
I stop moving my hand but leave it resting under his shirt on his bare skin. 

When we pull into the parking lot of Teller-Morrow, he parks the bike and we both get off. After I hand him his helmet he takes my hand in his, interlacing our fingers before leading me over to the garage office. There’s a woman sitting behind the desk who says:  
“Hi, sweetheart.”  
He squeezes my hand and says:  
“Hey, Gemma. This is Y/N, her car broke down on the highway. 30 minutes north. Can we send the truck out?”  
“Yeah. It’ll be a little while though.”  
“That’s okay. I’m sure I can keep her entertained.”  
She laughs and looks at me.  
“I need your keys, darlin’.”  
I hand her my keys and say:  
“Is there anything I need to sign?”  
“If you’ll be with Juice, I’ll get you to sign it later.”  
“Okay. Thanks.”  
He starts pulling me out of the office and Gemma says:  
“Juice, the apartment’s empty.”  
He turns and grins at her before saying:  
“Thanks, Gem.”

As we walk into the parking lot I say:  
“Apartment?”  
“In the clubhouse. Unless you’d rather go to my place.”  
“The clubhouse works. It’s right here.”  
“Impatient girl.”  
“Uh…yeah.”  
Before we walk into the clubhouse I say:  
“If you’re a Son, why aren’t you wearing a kutte?”  
“I was trying not to attract attention.”  
“Guess I probably don’t want to know, huh?”  
“Even if you did, I can’t tell you anything.”  
“Fair enough.”  
“I should ask…what do you do?”  
“I’m a journalist. I have no interest in the Sons of Anarchy, don’t worry.”  
“What are you working on?”  
“I can’t tell you.”  
“Okay. Is that the extent of our small talk?”  
“Please.”

He pulls me into the clubhouse and there’s a guy with artificial hands, except for his index fingers, behind the bar. The guy says:  
“Hey, Juice.”  
“Chucky, what are you doing?”  
“Restocking. Gemma told me to get out of her hair.”  
Chucky looks at me for a moment and when I realize Juice has no intention of introducing me I say:  
“Hi, Chucky. I’m Y/N.”  
Juice starts pulling me again and says:  
“Chucky is not really important.”  
“Don’t be an ass.”  
I pull my hand away from his and turn around to face Chucky again. I gesture at his hands and say:  
“I have to ask, what happened?”  
“I have a condition…causes me to masturbate at random times…it’s kind of like a nervous tic. I used to work for the Chinese, and they got sick of it, so they cut all my fingers off since I only needed my index fingers to operate a calculator. Gemma got sick of my stubs, so she bought me these hands on eBay.”  
“So you can’t masturbate anymore?”  
“Well, I’m very large, so no.”  
“That sucks, Chucky. I’m sorry.”  
He shrugs and smiles a little before saying:  
“I accept that.”  
“It was nice meeting you, Chucky.”  
“You too. You should go to Juice before he gets more pissed off.”  
“Where’s the apartment?”  
“Down the hall, turn right, second door on the left.”  
“Thank you.”

I walk away, heading down the hallway to the door he said. When I get there I open the door and step inside, closing the door behind me. Juice walks over to me and presses me against the door before saying in a low voice:  
“Are you done chatting up the help?”  
“Yeah. I wasn’t planning on talking to him, but you were being an ass.”  
He puts his mouth against my ear and says:  
“I just want you.”  
“I’m right here. What the hell are you waiting for?”  
He kisses my neck as I unzip his hoodie and push it off his shoulders. When I pull his shirt off I run my fingers over his chest, tracing the two skull tattoos he has there before moving my hands down to his belt. I quickly undo it before he pulls my shirt over my head. I put my hand on the back of his neck and pull him towards me so I can kiss him. As I run my tongue along his bottom lip to get him to open to me, he unhooks my bra and pulls it off. 

I gasp against his mouth when he brushes his thumbs across my nipples and I feel him smirk before he pulls away from my mouth and says:  
“You’re sure about this?”  
“Yeah. I’m sure.”  
“Take your pants off.”  
“Bossy.”  
He growls my name at me and says:  
“Can you cooperate without the sass?”  
“Probably not. I told you it was a personality defect.”  
I grin at him as I take my pants off and then reach for his. Once both of us step out of our pants, he turns us around and backs me towards the bed.  
“Lie down.”  
I lie down and pull him down on top of me, kissing him again as he runs his hands over me. 

A couple of hours later, we’ve had sex a few times and he’s asleep. I’m quietly getting dressed when the door opens a crack and Chucky quietly says:  
“Y/N, your car is ready.”  
“Great. Thanks, Chucky.”  
I finish getting dressed and leave the room, closing the door behind me. 

When I get to the garage office, Gemma says:  
“Where’s Juice?”  
“Sleeping. What do I owe you?”  
“$150.”  
“Really?”  
“Friends and family discount.”  
“I’m neither of those things. What do I owe you?”  
She shakes her head slightly and smiles.  
“Fine, darlin’. $550. Credit or cheque?”  
“Cash works for me.”  
“Okay. Can you fill out this paperwork for me?”  
“Do I have to?”  
“No. I guess not.”  
“Great. Thanks.”  
I hand her the money and she gives me my keys. 

As I drive away I feel guilty for not saying goodbye to Juice, but by the time I get home, I feel guilty for all sorts of other reasons. I dig my wedding and engagement rings out of the ashtray and slide them back on my finger, then check my hair and makeup in the mirror before getting out of the car. When I walk into the house, my husband pulls me into his arms and says:  
“I expected you hours ago. What happened?”  
“Car broke down. Had to get it towed and repaired.”  
“Where?”  
“Just outside of Charming.”  
“Did you get Teller-Morrow to tow it?”  
“Yeah. And they let me hang out in the clubhouse while I waited. No business talk happened, but I can draw you a floorplan.”  
“Did you disclose that you’re a journalist?”  
“Yeah. But I told them, honestly, that I’m not writing about them. They didn’t ask any other questions.”  
“Good. Draw that floorplan and I’ll send it to the bosses.”

A week later, my husband’s exposé on the Sons of Anarchy has been published, including a copy of the floorplan I drew. I’m leaving the house to go to the grocery store when I see Juice leaning against the side of my car. He stands up properly and walks towards me.  
“So, was it all to get into the clubhouse?”  
“No. My car actually broke down and no-one made you stop or suggest that I fuck you.”  
He nods a little and I can see the glimmer of tears in his eyes.  
“Did you fuck me just to help your husband with his article?”  
“No.”  
“Expand on that a little, Y/N.”  
“I did not fuck you to help him. I fucked you because I wanted to. Getting into the clubhouse was just a happy side effect.”  
He steps closer to me but doesn’t say anything. I put my hand on his chest and say:  
“Did you get into trouble?”  
“No. We’ve all been fooled by pussy at one point or another.”  
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Juice.”  
“I believe that you believe that.”  
“What can I do to fix things?”  
“Nothing.”  
I step closer to him and slide my hand from his chest to his neck as I say:  
“Nothing? Are you sure?”  
“There’s nothing you can do.”  
I step closer to him again and kiss him. When he deepens the kiss and wraps his arm around my waist, I pull slightly away and say:  
“Come inside with me.”  
“That won’t fix anything.”  
“Nope. But I want you.”  
He grins and shakes his head before saying:  
“Yeah. Okay. Lead the way.”  
I take his hand and lead him into the house, closing and locking the door behind us.


End file.
